Thinblade (26 page)

Chapter 22

“Two thousand years ago, after the Reishi were defeated, Prince Phane fled from those loyal to the Old Law and, with the aid of his dark magic, retreated into the future. The Old Rebel Mage, Barnabas Cedric, saw the danger and made preparations so that we would have a chance of withstanding the darkness Phane would bring to our world. You are all aware of the message delivered into your minds by the magic circle placed around Phane’s Obelisk. Mage Cedric’s first preparation for our survival succeeded. He warned us of the danger. His second preparation is more complex.” Hanlon stopped for a moment to be sure he had everyone’s undivided attention.

When he was satisfied, he continued, “He secreted away the last surviving heir to the Throne of Ruatha and created an order of soldiers to protect that Royal Bloodline until the time came for that line to reclaim its rightful place as the rulers of Ruatha. You are all aware of the title I bear, the Keeper of the Royal Bloodline, but few of you truly understand the significance of that duty. For two thousand years, the Keepers of the Royal Bloodline have preserved and protected the line of the Ruathan Kings in anticipation of this day. Only a handful of Rangers are aware of the true purpose of our order and all who know have been forbidden from speaking of it until I fulfill my duty and name the heir to the throne.”

Alexander felt that now all-too-familiar icy chill race up his spine when Hanlon looked his way.

The Forest Warden held out his open hand toward Alexander. “I give you Lord Alexander, your rightful King and Master of Ruatha.”

Alexander could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart in the silence that followed. He tried unsuccessfully to school his growing panic. He glanced to Abigail and saw in her wide blue eyes a reflection of his dismay. When he looked to Anatoly, the look he got back was the one that said, “Pay attention.” The old man-at-arms had known all along.

Alexander was floundering. He knew he needed to keep his composure or risk undoing the authority that had just been heaped upon him. At an instinctive level he understood that a ruler did not survive long after he abdicated his power. He knew without doubt that his survival and that of his sister depended very much on his actions in this moment. If he showed weakness, the vultures would begin circling. Phane would no doubt make offers of power and wealth in exchange for Alexander’s death, and many of the nobles at the table would likely be more than happy to strike such bargains.

With a sheer act of will, Alexander wrested control of his emotions and shoved them aside before he stood to address the court. The assembled nobles each watched with keen interest. Alexander felt like a bug in a jar.

“Lords and ladies, thank you for your warm welcome. The threat we face is grave. In the coming months and years all will be called upon to sacrifice for the cause of defending the Old Law. If we fail, our children will know only darkness under the tyranny of Prince Phane.” Alexander scanned the room to see how his words were being received. He saw that the Rangers were taking him seriously but the nobles and courtiers clearly didn’t like the notion that they would be required to make sacrifices.

“Over the coming days and weeks I will call on many of you for your counsel. We face an enemy the likes of which has not walked the Seven Isles in two thousand years. I hope I can count on all of you in this fight.” He made a point of deliberately scanning the room with his second sight before sitting down. The moment he sat, three nobles tried to stand at once.

The first to his feet looked toward the other two to yield the floor, which they did. Alexander could see the unspoken words pass between them with the furtive looks they gave each other. Now he began to feel more like a lost child who’d wandered into a den of lions than a bug in a jar.

The noble who retained the floor was a short man with a pinched face, a slight build, and wavy shoulder-length hair the color of a carrot. He had delicate hands with painted fingernails and wore several jeweled gold rings. His clothing was spun of fine silks and embroidered with gold and silver thread. He looked ridiculous to Alexander but clearly fit right in with the other nobles and courtiers.

“Your Majesty,” he began with just the slightest hint of sarcasm, “I wonder if I may see the Thinblade?” His request was made with the utmost innocence as if he were a child in awe of some new discovery.

Alexander was at a loss. He didn’t have the Thinblade. He’d never even heard of the Thinblade before the ghost of Nicolai Atherton told him to find it. And worse, Lucky had told him that most of the seven Thinblades were lost at the end of the Reishi War. Before Alexander could attempt an answer, Hanlon interjected.

“Truss, you know full well that the Thinblade was lost when the House of Ruatha fell.” Hanlon was clearly agitated by the man. Alexander decided he liked the Forest Warden even more.

The overdressed noble reacted with feigned innocence. “Warden Alaric, I only hoped that our young new king would have the Thinblade, which as we all know is the only true badge of an Island King, so that he might easily bring the other Ruathan territories in line. Without it, I fear that many of the noble houses of Ruatha will not swear fealty to him and his vital cause.”

He bowed with mock humility before continuing. “If he could produce the Thinblade, this council would, of course, bow to his authority without hesitation. However, since the Thinblade is, as you said, lost, we must deliberate before accepting the rule of this young man simply on the strength of a mark on his neck.”

He looked almost embarrassed, as if he was saying something he didn’t want to have to say. “I hope you understand, Your Majesty, Glen Morillian is ruled by a council of nobles and we cannot, under our law, simply bow in fealty to you without a deliberation and a vote.” He smiled sheepishly, then added hastily. “Of course, you can count on my support in this matter … Your Majesty.” The last was spoken just as he sat down.

Alexander could see out of the corner of his eye the anger growing on Hanlon’s face and he could also see the look of satisfaction on the faces of many of the nobles seated around the table. It was apparent that these men were accustomed to backroom dealing, subterfuge, and treachery. He could also see that they each had significant egos. As much as he wanted to speak his mind to the little man, he didn’t yet know enough about the circumstances to allow his emotions to rule him. He remembered in a flash the crossbow bolt in his shoulder. He’d gotten that wound because he allowed emotion to cloud his reason and obstruct his view of the battlefield. He heard one of his father’s admonitions in the back of his mind: “Be driven by emotion but ruled by reason.”

Without allowing even a hint of anger into his voice, Alexander spoke without standing. “And your name is?” he asked with just a hint of disdain.

He held the little man with his gold-flecked eyes until he stood, seeming somewhat less certain of himself. He replied, “I am Rexius Truss, at your service.” The little man bowed slightly.

“Very good, Master Truss, I will count on your pledge of support in this matter.”

Again Alexander locked eyes with the little man. The gold flecks in his eyes glittered with anger. The little noble looked a bit unsettled but he still attempted to smile while taking his seat. It was exactly the effect Alexander had been hoping for. He knew how unsettling his eyes could be when he got angry. The gold flecks in his copper-brown irises tended to glitter just like his father’s. He’d seen his father look at him in that way a time or two and it always made him want to be somewhere else. After Truss took his seat, Alexander scanned the room and caught just out of the corner of his eye the twin looks of mischievous satisfaction worn by both Abigail and Isabel.

The looks worn by the other nobles were more cautious and less bold than just a moment before. Alexander decided that in putting them back on their heels, he’d scored a small victory. It was enough for now.

“Warden Alaric, we’ve had a long and arduous journey. Perhaps we should adjourn this council for today and reconvene at a later time,” Alexander suggested.

Hanlon gave him a satisfied little grin before standing. “This council is adjourned,” he pronounced offhandedly. He clearly had little patience for the nobles seated around the table.

The meeting broke up with groups of two and three nobles going off in different directions while talking quietly amongst themselves. All except Rexius Truss. Alexander expected the overdressed little man to accost him but he didn’t seem interested in Alexander at all. Instead he headed straight for Isabel. Alexander made sure he was within earshot when Truss took hold of Isabel’s arm and turned her toward him as if she were a possession.

“I trust you’ve had ample time to consider my proposal.” He smiled his fake little smile.

Isabel gently but firmly pulled her arm away from him. “Duke Truss, I have considered and reconsidered and the answer is still no. Now if you will excuse me…”

Truss interrupted her, “You simply must reconsider. As you well know, my house is the wealthiest in the entire valley. Our union would strengthen both of our families and unite Glen Morillian for the coming struggle. If not for me, please accept my offer for the sake of our land and our people.” He reached out and took her by the elbow again.

Alexander walked up behind him and interrupted as if he hadn’t heard a word of their conversation. “I believe you promised me a tour of the palace, Lady Alaric,” he said with as much innocence as he could manage.

Just a flicker of confusion flashed across her face before she seized the lifeline he’d thrown her. “Of course, Your Majesty. Please excuse us, Duke Truss.” She pulled her arm away and took Alexander’s arm instead as they quickly left the room.

Once out the door and into the hall, Alexander leaned in and whispered, “Please get me away from all these people.”

She chuckled softly and led him down the hall. When they turned into a side corridor, Alexander noticed Truss watching them with a look of smoldering anger that he tried without success to hide. Alexander decided he didn’t like Rexius Truss.

Isabel led him through a confusing maze of corridors, hallways, and rooms until they came to a landing on a spiral stairway leading both up and down. Alexander guessed they must have been in one of the main towers rising up out of the center of the castle, but he didn’t have time to ask because Isabel hadn’t slowed down since they had turned the corner from the main hall.

The stairs wound up ever higher. Alexander felt his lungs burning. He raced to keep up with Isabel’s long strides as she bounded up the stairs. There were landings every so often and a few doors leading out of the sides of the tower that Alexander presumed led to the open-air bridges he’d seen spanning the distance between several of the towers. Finally, the stairs ended at the top of the bell tower. It was an open-air platform with six pillars in a ring around the outside edge holding up a stout-looking roof with a heavy crossbeam that supported a giant brass bell. The rocker arm that was attached to the crossbeam had a heavy rope trailing down through a small hole in the floor.

Isabel walked in a circle, hands on her hips, around the bell while she caught her breath. Alexander just stopped and put his hands on his knees and breathed deeply. When he stood up, she was looking at him and smiling broadly.

“Thanks for the rescue,” he said. “I think I was more at ease fighting those nether wolves than I was in that room full of nobles.”

Isabel laughed, “I thought you handled yourself nicely. I especially liked the way you put Truss in his place. And besides, I should be thanking you for saving me. He would have hounded me until I went and hid in my room.”

Alexander looked down for a moment trying to find a delicate way of asking the question that was burning through his mind. In the end, he decided to just be himself, blunt and to the point. “You aren’t really going to marry that guy, are you?”

She smiled again and sat down on one of the benches lining the outside of the tower. “No, at least not if I have anything to say about it,” she said.

Alexander sat next to her. “Why wouldn’t you have a say in the matter? It’s your life.”

She looked up with a shrug. “The politics of court are complicated. Truss asked my father for permission to court me. My father is the head of the council but he only has one vote so he needs the support of the nobles to govern Glen Morillian. He gave Truss permission but told me it was entirely my decision. That was a year ago. I think my parents are becoming impatient. I’m expected to marry. It’s my duty.” She heaved a sigh before continuing.

“There are a number of men from various noble families who have asked for my hand but I’ve put them all off. I don’t want to marry any of them. They’re all spoiled and soft. Besides, I want to ride patrol with my brothers. I want to see the world.” She stopped when she saw Alexander looking at her. “Probably sounds stupid after all you’ve been through.”

He shook his head, “Not at all. My father always told me to follow my heart. He’s a wise man and I think that may be the best advice he’s ever given me.”

Isabel smiled at that. “What about you? Do you have someone special back home?”

Alexander shook his head slowly. “No, not back home.” She didn’t catch his meaning.